


Trapped

by SundayZenith



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Animal Death, Gen, Horror, Psychological Horror, Tumblr Prompt, attempts at humor, but just in case, or at least an attempt at it, other characters referenced, referenced Once, self worth issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23816536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SundayZenith/pseuds/SundayZenith
Summary: There wasn’t a door.There probably wasn’t a door.As long as Virgil stayed laying on his side, facing the wall, he had no way of knowing whether or not there was a door. Frankly, he was fine with not knowing.Logan, meanwhile, just wants to know why this hallway is so long and where Virgil Is.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 5
Kudos: 33





	Trapped

**Author's Note:**

> Requested from this list: https://richiesseth.tumblr.com/post/178626407354/it-was-a-graveyard-smash-a-horror-fic-prompt-meme
> 
> Anon asked for 58- Trapped/Held Captive and 44- Psychological Horror. An attempt was made.

It was an overall pleasant room, with stripped wallpaper, gray carpeted floor, and solid corner to curl up in. Technically it was his room- dark lighting, nicely knit spiderweb hanging from the ceiling, a poster with some classic Disney villains on it, the works. 

There also wasn’t a door.

There _probably_ wasn’t a door.

As long as Virgil stayed laying on his side, facing the wall, he had no way of knowing whether or not there was a door. Frankly, he was fine with not knowing- even if there was no way out for him, there was no way _in_ for anyone or any _thing_ else.

Of course, it also meant that if there was already something else in the room with him, he was essentially trapped with them. His hood was up, shielding his ears. He felt something heavy hanging in the air, inches from the back of his neck.

Pulling his jacket sleeves over his palms, Virgil traced a strip on the wall with his finger tip. He held his breath and told him to ignore everything else.

-

Logan had been walking down the hallway for approximately thirty-four minutes, or about the average amount of time it takes their group to work through the issue of the month. He had yet to encounter any doors, just a long stretch of hallway. He kept passing clocks shaped like black cats, each one ticking out of sync with each other and telling different times, so he’s had to rely on his own internal sense of time.

No one had seen Virgil all day. While this wasn’t unusual, between the unpleasant pair of “Dark Sides” that had been popping up more and more lately, seemingly intent on proving some illogical point, and Virgil’s own still very recent coming out about his own past with them, Logan, Patton, and Roman had been keeping an eye on him.

It would be ridiculous to expect Virgil to not catastrophize a little bit, given his very function was to account every possible negative outcome possible. It would be like expecting Patton to not be stubborn or overly sentimental, or Roman to not be Roman.

Of course, given that Patton was Patton and Roman were Roman, and both had a tendency for getting side tracked, Logan had concluded that he should be the one to check on Virgil, see how he was doing, and check to see if he needed anything.

Just a quick, professional pop in and pop out.

Or so he thought.

He did _not_ want to punch something. His legs were not tired, his shoulders were not tense, and he did not feel a scream building in the back of his throat, _suffocating_ him, _waiting to leap out and once he started screaming he might not stop-_

He did not feel like screaming, because he was not afraid. He was strained somewhat, he would admit, because he was in Virgil’s space. Entering another Side’s room was always a risk, because of how they heightened everything that Side embodied became.

He passed by a silly poster of what seemed to be Disney villains, though he didn’t bother to look close enough to see who they were.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose and kept walking, every now and then straightening his tie. Not because he needed something to do with his hands, of course. He didn’t.

The ticking was starting to annoy him.

-

There was definitely something in the room with Virgil. Or maybe there wasn’t. He could feel it, a hand hovering over his shoulder, a claw hanging above his head. It was like something was holding their breath with him.

It was like that cat Logan mentioned once or twice- or at least Virgil thinks Logan mentioned it, since it seemed like a very Logan thing to care about- the one in a box that was both dead and not dead since you couldn’t know for sure which it was.

Schrödinger's _thing_.

_Schrö_ ** _thing_** _er,_ Patton might have said, but Patton would have probably been too upset at a thought experiment that had to do with possibly dead cats to make puns.

There was a tear in the wallpaper. Virgil dug his fingernails in, feeling the unpleasant flaking of the wall gather under his fingernail. He was still holding his breath.

He wasn’t sure he could breathe even if he wanted to. His heart was pounding an unsteady rhythm in his throat, loud enough that the thing in there with him- _if_ there was a thing in there with him- could surely hear it.

_Just turn your head,_ he told himself, _and you’ll know for sure_.

_And what happens if there is something in here? What then?_

He had an answer for himself, of course, but he blocked it off.

-

Logan began walking faster, though he wasn’t running. It would be foolish to run- he couldn’t see very fair ahead of the darkly lit hallway, and if he were to look behind himself- which he did sparingly, since he had no need to- it would be the same darkness. If he ran, he might trip over something. Virgil was hardly the most organized Side, after all, and even though the hall had thusfar been mostly barren- unusually so, Logan had to admit- there was no way of knowing if that would continue to be the case.

Logically, since there hadn’t been anything to trip over yet, there probably wouldn’t be later on, but this place did not run on logic.

He had to admit it was starting to get to him- maybe he was a little tense, and his face had an uncomfortable greasy feeling to it, as if he hadn’t slept a healthy and routine amount the last month. This likely meant Virgil wasn’t feeling so well himself. The sooner Logan found the other Side, the sooner they could step _away_ from this place.

Logan passed another poster for those Disney villains. They seemed to be mocking him with their grins- and for all he knew, they were. His steps mingled with the off sync ticking as he sped up farther.

-

Virgil was trapped in there with a thing- _himself_.

He mentally chuckled the the self-deprecating joke.The others wouldn’t like it. The _Others_ would probably agree.

He had dug a small groove into the wall at this point, a little imperfection in an otherwise lovely room. How fitting, if a bit on the nose.

He could practically feel the other thing in the room leaning in, could almost taste the sour breath they were holding in, could feel it in his own burning chest.

He mentally assessed the outcomes to his options:

_Close his eyes_ \- Pros: his eyes were starting to burn from staring at the stripes and poster’s corner, so closing them might help; if the thing- _if there was a thing_ \- decided to attack, he didn’t have to see it coming. Cons- he _wouldn’t_ see it coming.

_Keep staring at the wall, holding his breath_ \- Pros: if- _if if if ifififIFIFIF_ \- there was a thing there, it might not want to make the first move, meaning he couldn’t be attacked. Cons- he might never move again. 

_Turn around_ \- Pros: he’ll know if he’s alone or not. Cons: He’ll have to go from there.

He might find he’s alone. 

He might find he’s _completely_ alone.

-

_It can’t be the same poster_ , Logan thought, running past it.

It was the third poster he had passed since he started running.

He could no longer hear the clocks over the sound of his own feet and the pounding in his head. 

Logan ran past another one, and a groan of frustration- it was _frustration_ , not fear, _not fear_ \- torn through his sore throat. It felt like he had been screaming for _hours_ , but that wasn’t possible. Even if he had been making verbal sounds, he had only been here thirty-five minutes. _Right?!_

Logan ran past another one, but it couldn’t be the same one, he was walking straight _he would have known if he had been walking in a circle even if the curb was a subtle one he was Logic he had to be logical-_

_But this place did not run on logic,_ he realized.

Logan forced himself to stop. Breath. His legs ached.

Calmly, Logan approached the poster- it had a ragged tear middle, something he was sure it didn’t have before. It seemed, however, to be hanging at the same height and at the same distance between two cat clocks, but that might mean nothing.

It also, he realized- not bitterly, he did _not get bitter_ \- might mean everything.

Logan placed a hand by the poster, sucked in a deep breath, and calmly screamed at the top of his lungs, _“VIRGIL WHERE ARE YOU?_ ”

-

_“Virgil!”_

Something was calling his name. Or someone. 

_“Virgil?!”_

Or maybe he was playing tricks on himself. Or something was playing a trick on him.

_“Virgil answer me_ ** _please_** _!_ ”

He would never know if he never looked. Something about the “please”- it sounded afraid and raw and awful and- slightly graveling? Not like his own voice, which he automatically pitched low and soft, but as if the person speaking often kept it in a monotone and only added inflection on occasion.

It sounded like “Falsehood” he realized.

_But- Lo-_

Bracing his arm against the carpet, Virgil sucked in a sweet, sweet breath and forced him to turn around.

Logan collapsed on the floor in front of him, falling through the open doorway.

This entire time he was alone, he realized this entire time he could leave, and he didn’t, he was afraid of _nothing_ -

Logan scrambled to his knees and grabbed Virgil’s shoulder, his face pale, tie wrinkled, and eyes surrounded by smudged, bruised black.

“Virgil, thank god! Do you have _any-”_ Logan cut himself off. Softer, though still not his usual authoritative, even tone, he said, “Do you have any idea how long we have been here? Or at least yourself?”

Virgil shook his head.

Logan signed, hung his head, and Virgil knew he must _done something_ to cause Logan to be in this state. He screwed up. He was _always_ screwing up and miscalculating and _the others payed for it._

Logan straightened up. “We should leave this place. It’s... clearly affecting us both negatively. The other’s are probably going to come after us soon, and I... _They_ might have some overwhelming sentimental feelings when they do.”

Despite himself, Virgil snorted at that. 

He pulled himself and Logan up with some difficulty- he was feeling stiff and Logan still had him in a vice grip, seeming almost unable to support himself due to exhaustion. 

Then, he stiffened and with a sudden bought of energy, Logan pulled away and tore Virgil’s poster from the wall.

“Hey!”

“I-” Logan ripped it in two- “never-” now four- “want to see-” eight, sixteen, leave it to Logan to wreck something in such a uniform manner- “this stupid poster _again!_ ”

He threw it on the floor, huffing. Then, turning on his heel, he seemed almost embarrassed. “Apologizes. I was... caught in a loop of sorts, and I repeatedly encountered a similar looking poster.”

“Caught in a _Logic_ loop?” Virgil offered weakly, mainly because it felt like a joke someone needed to make, and since Patton and Roman weren’t there, that someone was him.

Logan, somehow, looked even more worn out. 

This was Virgil's fault, he just knew it. The others would know it as well, he realized- his room, his territory- all it did was wear and tear and break. 

It should be sealed off completely. 

But he couldn’t spend all his time in the main area of the mind, either- nothing good came from his absence, but nothing good came from his presence either.

Maybe, as long as he didn’t go to deep, _maybe_ \- 

He tried to cut the thought off. Logan was leaning against him again, something that made him worry- not that it took much to make him worry, since it was his job- since Logan wasn’t really one for physical contact.

“I am _fine_ ,” Logan said, as if reading his thoughts. Virgil doubted that.

He doubted a lot of things, actually.

When they turned towards the door, they both froze.

There was no door.

Just a single clock, shaped like a black cat, ticking in beat with their hearts.

**Author's Note:**

> Why don’t they just sink down? Idk mate, Logic’s a little worn out at the moment.
> 
> Tumblr: Sunshine-zenith


End file.
